Something Real
by libaka
Summary: AU kinda. PPHP, HarryPansy. I wrote a letter to Voldemort with four words in it: May 23rd, the Room. It was all he needed to know. Thus, I hardened my heart, and prepared to give away the only thing that was keeping me happy. R&R please!


Okay everybody. This is really different from my usual writing…. But I am working on a humor fic right now, so give me some slack. I wrote this ages ago, so I figured I'd upload it…

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. The plot is probably really cliché and has been used before, though I haven't read one like it. So sorry.

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Strong. I'd always seen Harry Potter as strong. Even though he was a half-blood, one of the trash that deserved to be walked on, I always saw him as strong. Sure, he annoyed me. I was the elite, part of the pureblood Slytherins that deserved the respect of the rest of the student body. And yet, for all Draco insulted Potter, calling him weak and pathetic and too easily prey to his emotions, somehow I found that that made him all the stronger. I'd heard somewhere that love conquers all, and I knew, no, I KNOW, that Harry James Potter loves passionately, loves all, even his worst enemy. He would mourn the death of anyone, no matter how much disgust he felt for that person.

It's just the way he is.

In sixth year, when Harry first caught my attention, it was in Potions. Snape, as always, was being the evil prick he is, but this time, Harry didn't react. He simply smiled up at Snape, finished his potion, and passed it in. He blew off all of Snape's comments, and broke all of our expectations. I heard Granger congratulating him later on his self-control. But…I had noticed that, although Harry had smiled, it wasn't a benevolent smile. Or even an indulgent smile. It was one that looked kind on the outside, but when you looked deeper, it was filled with evil. Not evil like the Dark Lord, evil as in he could rip you up in seconds without even needing to think about it. I think that's when I first understood how powerful Harry Potter was.

It was the first time I saw him not as a regular, snot-faced sixteen-year-old classmate, but as a powerful wizard. As a hero.

Soon after, it seemed like I caught his interest as well. Maybe it was because I grew into my nose and looked nicer, or that I stopped insulting Gryffindor at every turn and even helped Longbottom with a potion while Snape was occupied sniping at Granger. Or, it could the fact that we had the same desire: comfort, passion, with no hold. No strings attached.

Most girls felt that Harry Potter was some sort of god, that he was above them. I suppose he noticed that I never saw him as the Boy-Who-Lived, but as Harry, some stupid kid with a stupid scar and bad luck. The first time he sought me out was during the Halloween dinner. I had left early, desiring to be alone and finding solitude better than sociality. My father had been badgering me about joining the Dark Lord, and I was just giving up. Harry found me leaning against a wall outside the Room of Requirement (which he showed me later, I was just wandering the halls). He walked up slowly, being cautious and careful not to startle me. I glanced over, acknowledged him, and left it at that.

"Parkinson." He spoke so quietly, yet so clearly, that I just had to listen to the soft sounds of his voice that seemed to captivate everyone.

"Potter." I noted that he had grown a few inches recently, so he was about four inches taller than myself with slightly long hair that curled behind his ears and framed his face, accentuating his vivid green eyes.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Nothing, at the moment." We left it at that. The interaction wasn't important or life changing, but in the end it did change my life.

Soon after, Harry began poking his way into my days. He'd volunteer to be my partner in Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts, give slight touches would last longer than necessary, a small, intimate smile might show up as he walked past me in the halls.

I was unsure of how to act. No one else seemed to notice, except for Granger, who only nodded in my direction every now and then. Ignoring his advances, I treated him like any other student; I found out later that that was one thing that had attracted him so much.

A few months after the Halloween incident, I was patrolling the halls alone. My partner had skivved off patrol duty, and I felt no need to report him. I found Harry drifting down the halls, so out of it I first thought he was under the Imperious or some other mind-controlling spell. I poked his shoulder, to see if he would return to reality. Seeing my confused face, he smiled.

It was such a different smile from usual that it took my breath away. It was so happy, so content looking, yet so filled with sadness and anguish that I thought my heart would stop. He merely quirked an eyebrow at me, and muttered, "Something on my face, Parkinson?"

The other eyebrow rose to meet the first when I whispered brokenly, "Are you alright, Harry?"

My concern must have shown on my face, for he grimaced, and then turned away abruptly, as if I had struck him. I heard him reply softly, "Fine…just lonely."

Smiling to show I would leave the subject alone, I replied bossily, "Then walk with me. If anyone comes, I'll say that you're the replacement for the other Prefect."

The grateful look on Harry's face as he shoved his hands in his pockets and followed me put my heart back together and also seized my interest, which would last for much longer, not matter how well I got to know him.

The weeks passed, and Harry seemed to show up wherever I was. The library, the halls, anywhere: he was there. One night, I suppose it was in early January, right before school started again, I was in the library. Exhausted, I placed my heavy tomes on the table in front of me, and sitting in the warm chair, leaned my head back and closed my eyes, simply wanting to rest.

I never expected someone to come up behind me, softly cup my face between his hands, and press his lips ever so slightly against mine in a chaste, yet passionate kiss. It was as if Harry and I were sharing all the pent-up feelings inside us. There is no other way to explain it. The kiss was soft, sweet, and yet somehow as cold as ice. I could feel how badly he'd wanted to do this, so when he pulled away ever so slowly, I opened my eyes to see two green ones staring back down at me. He appeared nervous, as though he feared I would slap him. I couldn't bring myself to.

The feel of his breath against my cheeks was so light, so comforting, that I couldn't help but close my eyes once more. I felt him laugh slightly, and he brought his lips down to mine again, first brushing them against my eyelids, my cheeks, before pressing them once more onto mine.

The relationship, I suppose you could call it, escalated from there. We talked late into the night in the library, hiding from the prying eyes of all. I felt comfortable around him, and he with me. We exchanged few kisses, not needing them to show how we felt. The two of us wanted comfort from the relationship, nothing more. And then, our comfort, our contentedness, was broken.

My father wrote to me. In his short letter, he demanded that I return home for Easter holidays. He wrote that I would be meeting some of his "associates", meaning I was to meet the Dark Lord. I never told Harry, but I think he knew that something was wrong. I had drawn back a little, holding his hand when I could, as tightly as I could, as if it was all that was keeping me safe.

The vacation was dreadful. My worst nightmares had become reality. Someone, most likely Draco, had noticed my late nights, and followed me. My relationship with Harry had been found out, and now the Dark Lord wanted to use me to get to Harry. When I met the Dark Lo-no, when I met **Voldemort**, I learned what my mission was to be. I had to lure Harry into the Room of Requirement, where he and I had been meeting periodically, and somehow knock him out. He, and I, would be transported to Malfoy Manor, where Harry would be killed, and his body deposited on the Hogwarts doorstep for the entire world to see.

I don't know how I got through the meeting without screaming. I didn't want to betray Harry, but I also found myself fearing that my family would be killed if I did not follow through. I mulled over the situation during the holiday vacation and found myself at one conclusion: Harry was replaceable. I would miss him terribly, and probably never find someone like him again, but I would survive without the comfort his presence provided. Without my family, I was nothing. No matter how many times I reminded myself that my parents did not love me, I realized that in the end, I loved them. That was all that mattered. Thus, I hardened my heart, and prepared to give away the only thing that was keeping me happy.

Back at school, I continued treating Harry as if nothing had happened. I became excellent at hiding my emotions, and felt that nothing could go wrong. I wrote a letter to Voldemort with four words in it: May 23rd, the Room. It was all he needed to know.

I told Harry to meet me there, and I set up a lovely picnic area on a field of flowers and grasses. I wanted his last moments with me, and my last moments with him, to be as precious as possible.

Harry was a gentleman. He ate with me, talking of all his plans for the future, and included me in the discussion. I had slipped sleeping drugs into all the food, and given myself the antidote beforehand. As he drifted into sleep, I laid his head in my lap and sang to him. Though I don't know if it comforted him, but I knew it comforted me. That was what our relationship had been about since the beginning: comfort. Someone to talk to. No strings attached. We had never gotten farther then snogging and some clothes off, but to us that wasn't important. We both needed comfort.

When the room closed around us and we appeared in the dungeons, I stood slowly, laying his head down as softly as possible, and left. Mr. Malfoy met me outside the room. "Congratulations, Miss Parkinson. Your help has led to the capture of the Dark Lord's greatest enemy. Without Harry Potter, all opposition will fall apart. You are almost like Judith."

I brushed off the supposed compliment, realizing that he felt he had indeed complimented me. I felt the comparison to a woman who seduced a general, and then killed him on his bed to save her people was not exactly what I had done, for who had I saved? A few evil, despicable people who could kill me. Not people I cared for.

What Mr. Malfoy said next broke my heart. He declared that the Dark Lord was coming, and wanted me to be there when they killed Harry Potter. I wanted to protest, to say no, but anything I said was brushed aside. When He arrived, I was dragged in behind Mr. Malfoy and found a drowsy looking Harry chained to the wall.

"Ah…what I expected." Harry drawled sleepily, not sounding surprised in the least. I looked around for Mr. Malfoy; he had stayed outside, leaving me alone with the two archenemies.

"What will you do now, Potter? All alone, with nothing and no one to save you." Voldemort sneered. He felt so strong, for his dream was coming true. With the death of Harry Potter, Voldemort and his followers would take over with little or no opposition.

"You're going to kill a boy who is chained to the wall, without a wand, and drugged. Obviously, you aren't very strong." Harry murmured, sounding bored with the situation. I wasn't used to his voice sounding so cold, so empty. I shivered as I stood behind Voldemort, silently pleading with anyone who was listening not to have Harry see me.

"And yet, you still fell for my trap, Potter. Behold, the young lady who led to your demise." As Voldemort dragged me out in front of him, I struggled to hold back a shriek of pain as his hand gripped my arm strongly, making it feel as if my very bones were grating against one another.

"Pansy…" The look on Harry's face was neither one of grief, shock, or betrayal. It was resignation. I realized then, although Voldemort did not, that Harry had never truly trusted me. He had always assumed that I would take him to Voldemort. This time, it wasn't Voldemort who was in control. It was Harry.

A groan of pain escaped my lips as Voldemort shoved me to the ground, laughing at my predicament. "She betrayed you for her family. She never loved you! She's been following my orders for a while now, Potter." Voldemort cackled evilly as tears trailed down the dirt on my cheeks. I pushed myself off the ground, and stood resolutely to the side, clenching my hands tightly so they wouldn't shake. I could feel my nails pressing into my palms, the pain next to nothing compared to how guilty I felt.

Harry started to laugh. It wasn't a beautiful sound, nor was it empty sounding. It was the laugh of a desperate man, one who sees no way out of where he is, and finds it ironic. The laugh echoed off the stones, growing louder as Harry allowed himself to fall into madness.

"You stupid fool. The entire time, it was my idea." Harry spat bitterly, and then stood, the chains falling from his wrists and crumbling as if they were mere ashes still stuck in the shape of chains. His wandless magic was disintegrating them.

That's when I knew. That second I found out that none of what Harry had said to me was real, that it all was a set-up, all a fraud. Harry meant for Draco to find out, for Voldemort to threaten me, Harry even calculated my eventual succumb to the dark. He knew more than anyone what I was like, how I reacted to things. And yet, how could he? He made the plan before he knew me, when I was still another face in the long line of slimy Slytherins.

Voldemort's anger seemed to spread through the room, becoming tangible the more Harry smirked. Just as Voldemort drew back his wand to utter the Killing Curse, something astounding happened.

The room exploded. As the stones fell to the earth and a flash of green light rammed into the Dark Lord, I saw, for the last time, the startling green eyes of a boy who merely hoped for the best, prayed for all, and mourned even the worst of his enemies. I ran towards him, even though he had betrayed me as I had betrayed him. Our hands met, for the last time.

In his eyes, I not only saw the guilt for the set-up, for playing with my life and that of my family, for never letting on that he knew what would happen, I saw hope. Hope that with his death, the world would heal. Hope that no one would ever gain the same power as Voldemort had, that no one would ever allow that to happen. The hope that people would know that doing what was right was more important than following orders. I saw forgiveness. Forgiveness for my betrayal, for my weakness, for all that I had ever said to him or his friends. Last, just as the darkness fell on us both and our cold hands lay clasped together for eternity, I saw love. A love that stretched over any boundaries, that didn't differentiate between Slytherin and Gryffindor, lover and betrayer. A love that would last, not matter the obstacles. I saw a love that was strong, and that I realized I returned it just as strongly. I saw a love that was real.

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Is it okay?????? PLEASE REVIEW! And yes, I am begging.

Happy holidays to all!

REVIEW FOR ME!

Thanks to TamX2 for beta-ing. You're the best!

MWAHs to y'all

libaka


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